


tiniest slivers of glass

by kaerstyne



Category: Star Wars Legends: X-Wing Series - Aaron Allston & Michael Stackpole
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Post-Halmad, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sorry?, Ton Phanan Lives, Treat, Yuletide 2019, a bit of suicidal ideation, basically Phanan needs a therapist, but also he has (more) PTSD now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-25 06:14:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21931276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaerstyne/pseuds/kaerstyne
Summary: Making it out alive was just the first step.
Relationships: Garik "Face" Loran/Ton Phanan
Comments: 5
Kudos: 21
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	tiniest slivers of glass

**Author's Note:**

  * For [icandrawamoth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/icandrawamoth/gifts).



> I swear there wasn't supposed to be _quite_ this much angst, but, well, *gestures at Phanan's everything*

He's in a TIE fighter on Halmad again, trying and failing not to panic at being half-buried in the dirt with a crushed wing and a flaming engine. Or from hearing more fighters still screaming above him, even louder than the ringing in his ears, and knowing that they're coming for him. Or from the horrible wrenching in his gut as he tries to move and realizes something is very wrong, and the even worse wrenching in his head later when he sees Face appear in front of him. _No no no you shouldn't_ be _here you idiot—_

Ton wakes up and immediately bites down on a gasp, because that is a stupid cliché and he will have no part of it. And because there is absolutely no reason for him to be short of breath because of a dream, of all things.

_The symptoms of a panic attack can include nausea, accelerated heart rate, and difficulty breathing_ , a traitorous voice in his head pipes up helpfully, _and can be triggered by a sudden onset of fear caused by post-traumatic stress disorder, the symptoms of which include recurrent distressing dreams about the traumatic event._

As if he didn't know that already. But that was something that happened to other people, who had been through worse and actually had something left to lose. This was just his subconscious reminding him that he should have died on Halmad, and the only reason he hadn't was because Face is a stubborn idiot who doesn't know a lost cause when he sees one.

_Near-death experiences can—_

"Oh, shut up," he mutters, and then closes his mouth again so hard his teeth clack when he realizes his mistake.

There's the sound of cloth shifting from the other bunk, and a groggy voice says, "Ton?"

He stays quiet and very very still, not wanting even his breathing to give him away. Which works out well, considering he hasn't been breathing all that much for the past three minutes anyway. That could explain why he's starting to feel light-headed, now that he thinks about it.

"Ton?"

Honestly, he's had patients who behaved like this, and he was more than happy to tell them they were fucking idiots. He should consider taking some of his own advice now and then, the parts that aren't bullshit. How did the line go? "Physician, heal thyself"?

He'd always wanted to point out to whoever said that that, actually, it's rather difficult to heal yourself, because being in horrific pain tends to lead to trouble aiming the laser scalpel, and then you end up nicking an artery and bleeding out in the middle of nowhere instead of successfully removing your ruptured kidney. No reason to do that and die with even less dignity than you would have otherwise.

He'd thought about it. Because there was that tiny chance that he _wouldn't_ die from it, which had sounded appealing for a few seconds somewhere in there, before he remembered that the galaxy was probably better off with him not in it. And then it hadn't mattered, because Face—

"Ton. I know you're awake. I can hear you thinking."

—was an idiot, and here they are now.

"Aren't you the one," he says, letting the words flow on autopilot as he tried to work on getting enough air to keep saying them, "who insists I don't have enough brain cells to actually do that?"

"I can hear all three of the good ones working overtime in there."

He tries to snort, but it comes out as more of a wheeze. Since Face was already onto him, he concedes, there's not much point in staying quiet, so he sucks in several long, loud lungfuls of air.

The room is silent for a few more moments, then Face says, "Do you want to talk about it?"

This was _exactly_ what he'd been trying to avoid. "I'm fine."

"No, you're not," Face says, in a tone that isn't smug but still makes it clear he considers the words definitive fact.

Ton sighs. "Are you going to give me the speech again?" He's pretty sure he has the speech memorized at this point; he's heard plenty of variations on it from Face, from Wedge, from the medics. It hasn't even changed much since he heard it after Endor. Perfectly normal reaction to trauma, should hopefully get better over time, no saving him was _not_ a mistake, does he need anything, does he want to talk about it, ad nauseum until he'd sooner shoot himself in the fucking head than hear it again. Except if he says that part out loud Face gives him a look like he kicked his puppy, which does actually make him feel bad, so he's resigned himself to just making exasperated noises instead.

"Would you actually listen to any of it this time?"

He doesn't dignify that with an answer, and if the room weren't so dark he'd consider making an obscene gesture in Face's direction. Though, now that he extends some of his awareness to the rest of his body, he realizes his arm is shaking, so that probably wouldn’t have had the desired effect anyway.

"No point in wasting my time, then." More rustling of cloth, then light footsteps, and before Ton can entirely process what's happening Face is perched on the edge of his bunk. "Scoot over."

Ton does, more out of surprise than anything else. The bunks aren't intended to accommodate more than one person, but they can if you don't mind getting up close and personal, and Face clearly doesn't. He lies down and slings an arm around Ton's shoulders, tugging their bodies closer together, before pulling the blanket back up over both of them. He's pretty sure Face notices the shaking, since he squeezes Ton tighter after a moment, but he mercifully doesn't say anything about it.

"What are you doing?" Ton asks. Which is an incredibly stupid question, he knows that even as he says it, but his superior intellect is clearly not firing on all cylinders right now.

"Sleeping." Face makes a show of stretching out his limbs before curling up against Ton's side, tucking his face in the crook of Ton's shoulder. "You should try it too," he adds, breath tickling Ton's cheek.

Ton feels like he should object more to this, except the shaking has actually gotten better since Face came over, and he can mostly breathe normally again, and the extra weight next to him is unexpectedly pleasant. "But will you still respect me in the morning?" he mutters, one last weak show of resistance.

Face snorts, and tilts his head up to nuzzle Ton's jaw. "Go to sleep, Ton."

It takes a while for the last of the physiological responses to fade away and let him feel anything even approaching relaxed, but eventually Face's steady breathing beside him does lull him to sleep again, and this time he doesn't dream.


End file.
